Us
by Black Scepter
Summary: When crisis occurs, strangers are no longer strangers. When there is so few of you left, differences are pushed aside. In dark times such as these, there is no 'them' and 'they'. There is only Us.


This is going to be a long author's note, but bear with me: it's needed.

This is my third attempt at an RE story, my last two attempts...well...sucked. Because they did I set down the RE series for awhile and focused on my successful _Ghost Rider_ for a long time. However I find myself reading extremely well written RE stories, mostly romances, but they were extremely well written and in truth they inspired me to tackle the RE series once again. My inspirations were

Ninja-Gnome's "Just Like This", a ClairexLeon story that had lots of drama and was very well written in flow and characters.

"At Eternity's Gate" written by The Magnificent Kiwi. The ChrisxJill version of the above story, but longer and had much deeper character driven moments.

All these stories were great inspirations, even though they both focused on heavy things (the former was an abusive relationship and the latter had moments of psychological breaks on Jill's sanity). I actually found myself avoiding the heavy things and skipping to the moments of character romance, dialogue and story.

My hope is to take what I love about those stories and translate it to a T rated version with a RE style plot attached to it. The RE game inspiration for this story was Revelations, it was the perfect blend of old RE and new RE and I hope to reflect that. Remedy's Alan Wake series was an inspiration in terms of pacing and atmosphere, the Stephen King like horror and mystery intrigue. A little of Alan Wake's American Nightmare as well. Essentially, I want to mix Zombie horror with Stephen King, in atmosphere and plot. Yet I want to have strong characters and love plots like the aforementioned authors above.

To answer a question, yes, this story will have Original Characters. Please, please, please, do not judge the story for it. Try to embrace these characters and the role they play in, I want to make them as likeable as an RE character. Because these characters are important to, not as plot points but as CHARACTERS.

Think of _The Walking Dead_ and _Jurassic Park: The Game_ (or even Naughty Dog's upcoming _The Last of Us_) those are very heavy character driven stories that move the plot rather than the plot itself, that is my hope. That is what I want to present in this story, so if you skip out on the Original Characters you are going to miss that quality. You will only have half the story and the other half is just as important. This story is intended to be 15 chapters or less, this is an attempt to ground myself and make sure the story doesn't go on forever.

Thank you for reading, now I will let you read the story itself.

* * *

**Michael Fri Presents...**

**A BlackScepterProse Fanwork...**

_**"Us"**_

* * *

_**Chapter 1**_

The computer screen lights up in the blackened room, the only source of light that illuminates the cluttered, messy office that is cluttered with alcohol bottles and boxes of pictures. The user slowly moves the mouse to a word document on the desktop and clicks the file, a few moments later a seven paged article appears. Intended to be sent in the town's local paper for publishing, which was nearly finished: it was missing an ending. The writer's hands hovers over the keyboard, ready to type a conclusion to his article. Yet no sound of the keys were to be heard, they just...hovered there, staring at the white screen and his last typed sentence. His eyes darted back and forth, the eye lids would narrow in frustration several times until there was one big aggravated sigh, which followed was him pushing himself out of his chair and retreating into the dark recesses of the room. He fumbled in the dark for a bit until he finally had the sense to turn on the small lamp light, which gave light to the cluttered office. Papers and photos lay scattered on the coffee table, the writer slowly sits down in the chair and stares at them: not at the papers, but the photos. Photos of a woman, dark haired, brown eyes, beautiful. She was smiling, she was always smiling, her photos lay across his table like montage dedicated to this one, beautiful woman. His woman, his wife, the only memory remaining of her.

In a daze he reaches down and gently lifts a photo from the desk, he had no reason to do so: it almost felt automatic to him. Staring at the photo was almost like staring at beer or soda bubbling in a glass: to most people it was pointless, but to the person staring it held a great fascination, a strange wonder. The object of the photo was a wonder, a wonder that most people would believe to be pointless. Yet to him it was almost as if this photo was the wonders of the world and he never wanted to let it go, not as long as he could touch it. The phone begins to ring, he ignores it, he has an answering machine it will pick it up for him. He cursed the machine even for attempting to break his concentration of the wonder of the photo. Several rings, the machine beeped and a man's voice spoke:

"Hi! You reached the number of Neil-"

"-And Jen!" a female voice chirped.

"-Clark, we are unavailable to come to the phone at the moment: leave your name and number and we'll get right back at you. Bye."

"Toodles!"

The machine beeped and a woman spoke, her somber voice may as well be blended into the darkened room.

"Neil...it's me, Stephanie, listen...I know you're really hurting right now, I miss her too, a lot. But what you're doing...she never would have approved of it, cutting ties with your friends, holing yourself up and drinking. Quitting writing-" Neil slowly stood up from his sofa and walked to the messaging machine, "-she would have never wanted that Neil...it was your dream. We did our hardest to make it happen, if you give that up then her memory will die with it. Are you there at all?"

There was a pause as Stephanie sighed, "Your article is near due, if you miss this they will fire you Neil. Please...don't throw away what we worked for, I'll talk to you later, bye."

The phone clicked off and the message machine beeped to signal the recorded message, Neil stared at the phone and moved his head back to the computer: to his unfinished article. He stared at at the computer and slowly walked to his desk. He didn't sit down though, instead he walked to his printer and hit a button. The machine stuttered before whirring to life, printing out the pages of his document. He sat down in his chair and picked up the stack of papers, consciously straightening them before he reread his article:

_The Environment Uprising_

_by Neil Clark_

_ Nature. It's nothing new to us living in Parkville, where we are surrounded by acres and acres of woods. It's about as old as our forefathers, the great men and women who founded this town. In that time our forefathers believed in only using the nature and woods for what we need, not what we can gain. That belief still lives in some of the people today and that belief has become quite an issue for major corporations who want to use the land for factories or even summer homes, we've had several instances of this in the past but none so much as what is going on today. Today Parkville is seeing it's biggest environmental movement since 1902, many of the townsfolk has gathered together to protest the decision of wanting to strip the old woods and dig for oil. Environmentalists of course always protest to any form of change to the Earth, but in this case it's a more sentimental impact to the town. A symbol of our town's history and a great respect for the town's former leaders. Mayor Harner gave a speech yesterday about the environmental activities and says that he "has great respect for his forefathers and the people who wish to see their history remembered." However he also stated in his speech his belief that this town needs change, "our town may have the technology of today but we are not mentally with the times. Having this oil field will increase our monetary worth and maybe our town will be able to fully flow into the 21st century."_

_ However Mayor Harner is the only one who seems to believe it, many of the towns folks: pro-environment and even the ones who are neutral believe that to some degree the town's history must be preserved. "My Grandfather's grandfather started our family in this town," Mrs. Parker, owner of Parker's Perky Flowers said, "And we have a family tradition of going to the woods once a year for a family gathering, if these woods are turned to an oil field they would kill a valuable treasure to our family AND to the town!"_

_ The townsfolk who oppose the development of the oil field have formed massive protests on the construction field and in the town, they call themselves the "Mighty Oaks" for their motto is "as strong as the oak tree stands, we will never crumble". Every time I pass the protests they always ask me -and whomever should pass- what they believe about the movement. I could never answer them then, yet as I watch the protests and cooperate executives tell of us how prosperous this field will be I have found my answer._

Neil's eyes locked onto the words of that last sentence, it was the last one he typed and it was the next one he somehow couldn't answer. He began the article halfheartedly and now he was stuck, he tried to write his way around this sentence...however no matter how he worded it the article would end up forming to the point where his opinion of the situation would have to show. Truth was he didn't care for the situation, which usually he would write the article in a neutral tone and leave it be. What stopped Neil though was his wife, his _late _wife Jennifer, she was an environmentalist and believed Nature should be left clean and pure. This was why this article was so hard for him to write, he felt like he'd be betraying her if he wrote the report Pro-Oil field or even adopted a neutral tone. Thoughts of her would rise, like a stream that has had rocks thrown in it: the weight of the memory rose his emotions to the point of it spilling over to the dry lands of his mind. Her death was fresh in his mind, it was only four months ago: it felt longer...it felt like forty years, not four. He was confident he could go back to writing, he told his editor he was ready too...was it his luck that his first article after three and half months was this? Something that would remind him painfully of his wife? Perhaps it was, it was the one thought as he reread his entire article, a stabbing fear in his stomach as read awful paragraph after awful paragraph that he would have to start all over -which he had no time for-. He looked at the article and buried his head in his hands.

"I'm so screwed."

* * *

The Parkville airport was quiet frantic, like all airports there were people coming and going to planes to reach whatever destination they needed to. However for some of the people arriving, Parkville was the place they needed to be. One of them was the long haired blonde woman sitting in one of the small restaurants they had, she sat herself at the bar, drumming her fingers on the counter top. She clearly was waiting for someone with the way she checked the clock on her cell phone, they had agreed to let their meeting place be here when she had got off the phone with him. If only they took the same plane together, but...work called him in so he had to run late, when they last spoke he was finally getting ready to get on the plane. Until then though, she had to wait for him. It was too early for alcohol, not that she wanted any right now, so she sipped on water instead. From her left a man sitting next to her saw her and smirked to himself. He smoothed back his already slicked brown hair hair, making sure he had no stains on his shirt and slyly slipped over to the seat next to hers, the woman noticed this but made no move to object...yet.

"Sitting all by your lonesome?"

She took a sip of her water, not looking at this person just yet, "For now I am yes."

"For now?" the man asked, "Are you expecting someone?"

"Perhaps," the woman answered back.

"A boyfriend," the man pressed.

The woman turned to him this time, "I think that's a bit personal to ask don't you?"

"Just wondering if I should be even bothering to buy you a drink or not," the man asked.

"It's a bit early for a drink isn't it?" the woman pointed to the clock.

"I was wondering if you were going to be sticking around or not," the man continued, as if he didn't hear her.

"It'll still be a bit too early for drinks anyway." she said, which the man ignored.

"I just want to get to know you a little better that's all."

The woman sighed, setting down her drink, "If you must know, there is something you can know about me: the man I am meeting, he's kind of protective over me. I've been gone for a long time, he's not willing to let me slip away from him again."

"What like...an ex-boyfriend or something?" the man asked.

The woman paused before answering, "Something like that."

"What makes you think he's even going to show up?" the man asked indignantly.

The woman had turned to her right and smiled, not that the man could see it but soon he would find out what she was smiling at. "Oh...I think he will."

Just at that time a man walked into the restaurant, short brown hair and muscles that borderlined the edge of being a body builder. He was carrying a travel case in one hand and a backpack slung on his shoulder, he wore blue jeans and a white t-shirt with a green vest over it. Once he spotted the woman he immediately walked over to her, making his presence known to the man who was attempting to flirt with her.

"Jill," the man spoke, greeting his friend. He turned to the man on the left and narrowed his eyes ever-so-slightly. "Am I...interrupting something?"

"No, he's just leaving," Jill said, turning her gaze to the man who dejectedly moved away from the bar stool. The man who Jill was waiting for slowly took a seat next to her, looking at her with concern.

"Are you sure that I wasn't-"

"Chris," Jill turned to him, resiting the urge to giggle at his adorable look of concern. "I should be hugging you right now, he was trying to pull the whole 'drink and a number' deal on me and believe me you saved me from knocking him upside the head and explaining him outright I was uninterested."

Chris seemed to understand, nodding, "Right...well if its men you need to scare away phone Chris Redfield, business hours are-"

Jill couldn't help but laugh, which in turn caused Chris to laugh as well. Something that was hard to see from him nowadays, true she had been gone for a long time, but even during their early BSAA days he rarely cracked a smile. He had a nickname at work, she thought it got coined by Jessica and Quint, they called him Chris "All-Business" Redfield. She never paid it much mind because she knew the Chris from before, the one who surprised her on her birthday by putting her birthday cake on her desk next to her gun with a note that said 'in case someone tried to sneak a piece'. The man who wouldn't stop smiling after she finally agreed to go on ONE date with him, she swore it was glued to his face the entire day. Yet, when the BSAA was formed and shit hit the fan the smiling Chris Redfield was gone. Sometimes she'd get one out of him, sometimes, but it was as if the old Chris Redfield: the one who would laugh at anything, shut himself off when they began their campaign against Bio-Terrorism. She also heard the stories, how Chris almost shut himself away altogether after she was legally declared dead. She was almost worried what was before her was just a shell of the man she once knew and adored, so far she was thankfully proved wrong. In fact, she had to fight her surprise, and glee, to see him smiling and laughing again. This vacation may just what they needed...

It was a 'recommended' vacation by Sheva Alomar and the BSAA directors, of course by 'recommended' that meant the tickets were already paid for so Chris couldn't possibly refuse. In actuality, the vacation was for her... to get over the trauma and such, but she insisted Chris join her. With a little help from Sheva the director agreed Chris was seriously overworked and needed R&R as well. It was a fight to get him to join her, it took two 'official' orders from the director and nearly the entire office of BSAA telling him he needed the time off. She was glad he relented, course he needed to finish a report and had to take a later plane. Didn't matter to her though, he came like he promised: that was enough for her.

"So did the report go through smoothly?" Jill asked.

"I wouldn't know." Chris replied, "The ushered me out of the door the second I laid the report down on the table, I think they were afraid that I would use the report to try and stay."

Jill looked at him, "Would you?"

Chris turned to her, a little surprised, "No never Jill. I wouldn't leave you hanging like that, it's not me."

"I know," Jill said, a pang of guilt ran through her for her thoughts were betraying her words. "So, Parkville huh, of all places to choose why here?"

"Think someone has a vacation home here," Chris said, "Right, O'Brian has a place here he likes to go to for inspiration for a new novel."

"O'Brian? Really?" Jill asked, genuinely surprised. "How is his novels doing anyway?"

"He's got a solid fanbase," Chris said, "Myself included, when I have the time to read. I think he released his fourth book, though he hinted a fifth in the works."

"Hard to believe last I seen of him he was stuck halfway through his first novel, wish I could have read it," Jill said softly.

Chris felt guilty for bringing it up, she was gone for a long time...there was a lot she missed, hopefully there was plenty of time to make up for it. Chris put a comforting hand on hers, he could feel her twitch a bit at the touch but soon relax. The action made him muse on how long has it been since he held her hand, seen her smile, or even watch tip a beer bottle back as she proved to the guys from S.T.A.R.S that she could take as much as they could. In life he found a great many regrets, one of them was not asking Jill out sooner. They would have had more time to be together than the rather measly few dates they managed to fit in, he wanted to date her more when the Raccoon City incident was brought to light and Umbrella crashed. However then came the BSAA and terrorists getting ahold of their own versions, Veltro, Tricell, even Wesker: different names, same result. They all succeeded in removing any trace of a personal life Chris wanted, thus their relationship was put on hold. 'Till Wesker is defeated' he used to say to her, he wish he never said it if he knew the hell Jill were to go through. Now that was over, he admitted that maybe...just maybe, they could finally pick up where they left off from Raccoon City. That this vacation would be just what they needed.

"You'll get to," he said to her, that cracked a small smile from her saddened lips. They stayed that way for awhile until Jill moved to stand, Chris slowly followed her as well.

"We better get moving, as much as I like this airport restaurant I am eager to see this log home O'Brian gets his inspiration from." she said, Chris smiled at that and followed her out of the restaurant and through the airport. Passing through security they made their way to the parking garage, where someone had left a car for them.

"The BSAA really shelled themselves out," Jill noted, "Airport tickets AND a car? What did you do while I was gone Chris?"

"Work," he said as the elevator doors opened, checking the numbers on the wall he looked for the spot where they said it would be. "Maybe they just like to reward their hard workers."

The two of them turned a corner to the spot where the car was...and stared in shock. Right in the spot was this ugly, beat up, sedan with a muddy brown color and rust coating the sides. The two BSAA agents were dealt with a lot of shocks, but none of them were quite so effective as their bosses shelling out all this money...to get them a beater car.

"Well..." Jill said, breaking the silence. "...I guess we were expecting a bit too much..."

"This is like...the car I drove when I was _fifteen_," Chris said, still in shock. "And I swore I'd rather run around in woman's panties than ride that vehicle again."

"Well I could always pull some out of my suitcase if you don't want to drive," Jill offered, to which she enjoyed Chris do a double take before shaking his head.

"Hah, no, though that would make an interesting headline for the newspapers...I'd rather be seen in a beater than with your underwear on my head. I'll drive."


End file.
